


Walking in the Dark

by okkira (reinkist)



Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Poly, Depression, Drinking, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Introversion and Extroversion, M/M, Self-Hatred, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinkist/pseuds/okkira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, good. Cool." Ken risks a glance up at him, and Daisuke's smile is so actually, genuinely delighted that Ken feels lost.</p>
<p>"I don't know what I'm doing," Ken feels the need to confess, again. "Nobody's ever, ah. Liked me before."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> i last wrote this pairing in 2003. that was twelve years ago.
> 
> ...well hello i'm back
> 
> this is a college au. one of the more cliched tropes, sure, i'll admit that. but i wanted to do it. it's an american college au, too, only because that's what i know, but yeah. this is a thing that is happening.
> 
> hope you enjoy it.

Ken reaches up to rub at his face, the motion sleepy and clumsy. Disoriented. His button-up shirt pulls uncomfortably at his shoulder, and he's suddenly awake.

The room is still almost completely dark, except for the intense triangle of daylight peeking in under the heavy blanket that's pinned crookedly over the single narrow window. The fold-out futon he's lying on is extremely flat, and one of the bars underneath it is pressing painfully into his thigh.

He hadn't really paid much attention to the room last night. Now he studies it, his eyes flicking from the shelves on the far wall, crammed full of shadows, to the messy desk, to the clumps of papers pinned to the walls. There's an overflowing hamper in the corner, and clothes litter the floor around it like a blast radius.

And. Daisuke is breathing in the bed behind him.

Heavily. Definitely dipping into "snoring" territory. Definitely. And. Exactly what is Ken supposed to do now?

Images from last night flash across his mind's eye: the television sending shards of blue light flickering over the living room floor, across the silhouettes of two, three dozen people, talking, touching, dancing. The bass swelling, rattling the walls. The unfamiliar warmth of whiskey at the back of his throat and the slick, ribbed plastic of the cup in his hands. Daisuke leaning against the doorframe beside him, smile infectious, eyes so _open_ that even just the memory sends a shiver down his spine.

They hadn't even _done_ anything. They hadn't even talked, about...it. It was just...obvious. At least it...had seemed that way, last night. But what if...

No. It has to be true. Would they be sharing a bed right now if it wasn't?

Maybe, Ken's brain informs him, maybe he's just being nice and giving you somewhere to sleep because your ride drank too much and spent half the party sprawled over the loveseat in the corner like a drop-kicked mannequin. There's too much plausible deniability. Even if he meant it last night, he won't now. You don't deserve it.

Well. Ken knows _that's_ true. Impending doom bears down on him like a sniper bullet, swift and silent, and he might as well be standing still and tall, out in the open, with a target printed on the front of his shirt. What is he going to do when Daisuke wakes up? It could be any moment now. Any moment.

His heart thumps in a sort of mortified ecstasy at the prospect. Daisuke had hugged him last night before the party had ended, in the back hallway by the laundry room. What had they even been talking about? How they both played soccer in middle school? It was quieter back there, secluded, and Ken barely remembers anything about the conversation. He was too focused on Daisuke, how the string of lights that framed the doorway sent a golden glow up the line of his throat, over his cheek, glinting copper in his hair. He'd been so warm...and Ken seemed to have left his inhibitions back in the kitchen next to the array of liquor bottles on the counter. He'd slid his hands up Daisuke's back, grabbing handfuls of his hoodie, pulling him close. Daisuke had laughed, arms tightening, the warmth of his breath prickling over the tiny hairs on Ken's neck.

Ken flushes, half from embarrassment, half from the memory of how _good_ it felt to just...But. Now. Daisuke is still dead asleep, and Ken has never felt more awake in his life.

The bedroom door lets out a sharp creak when he opens it, and Ken winces, looking out at the smattering of people that decided to spend the night passed out on every available surface, and back at Daisuke, who's sprawled out on his back, still snoring. Miyako is still on the sofa, curled up with a blanket around her shoulders. Ken's stuck here at least until she wakes up.

Ken winces again at the loud creak of the handle on the ancient toilet, at the groan of the water in the pipes. While he washes his hands he tries to look into the small hand mirror tacked to the wall, a poor alternative to the missing door on the medicine cabinet, and attempts to fix his hair. He can't even really tell if he's succeeded or not.

"Hey," Daisuke says from the futon as Ken closes the bedroom door behind him, and Ken's heart leaps and twists. Daisuke's eyes are gleaming in the light from the window and Ken guesses it's OK to just...get back into bed, so he does.

"Hey," he answers as he slides back down under the mess of fleece blankets and homemade quilts. Daisuke is grinning at him, and somehow it's still just as infectious as it had been the night before.

"Cool, I thought maybe you left."

"Oh. No." The corners of Ken's mouth are turning up. He can't help it. Daisuke looks so warm and sleepy, the wide strap of his black tank top cutting across the bare skin of his shoulder. "And, ah. Everyone's still asleep."

"Oh, OK." Daisuke rolls over and flips on the light on the nightstand, then back toward Ken, pulling the blankets back up to his chin. He lets out a satisfied sigh into the pillow. "Fuck, man. Do you wanna eat breakfast?"

"Yeah," Ken is agreeing, before he's even technically considered it. What time is it? He was going to spend the day in the library.

But.

What if he just...didn't?

It's Saturday. He could just...

Like Daisuke's going to want to spend the day with you, his brain supplies. He's just being polite, asking you about breakfast.

"What do you want?" Daisuke asks. Ken can feel the warmth radiating from his bare forearm under the blankets. "We can make cinnamon rolls. And there's always like. Toast. Cereal? Or, you know. There's a waffle house on Main."

"Cinnamon rolls are fine," Ken answers, quickly. Daisuke grins at him, and neither of them move.

"I sort of like this, though," Daisuke says.

"What?"

Daisuke shrugs, still grinning. He has dimples, and Ken finally allows himself to admit that he likes it. "This. Laying around in bed with you."

"You do?"

"Come on! Obviously."

"Oh," Ken says, two whole languages shrivelling up and dying in his throat.

Daisuke studies him closely, eyes smiling. "You do know we have like," he gestures between them. "A _thing_ , right?"

"Y-Yeah," Ken stammers out, then lets out the worst kind of nervous giggle. "Yeah. I guess we...do."

"What do you want to do about it?" Daisuke asks, and there's a low edge to his voice that makes Ken's heart race.

"I'm not...I haven't exactly...I don't know what I'm doing," Ken confesses, almost under his breath. Daisuke's smile doesn't change.

"That's OK."

"...Oh."

"Seriously, hey. Don't worry." Daisuke is looking at him, eyes soft, and Ken stares back, honestly getting a little lost in that warm, warm brown. "It's cool. Seriously. No pressure."

The kitchen door is a little bit too big for its frame, and Daisuke expertly kicks it to. He yanks open the freezer door and pulls out three tubes of frozen store brand cinnamon rolls and dumps them on the counter. Light is coming in sharply through the window in the back door, trailing over a multicolored braided rug. The sink is full of dishes.

"Do you want coffee? Don't worry, it's the good stuff."

"Sure." Ken hovers somewhere near the sink, feeling lost in the space between "guest" and the ascended "potential romantic interest of the host". Would it be more proper to help out? Or for him to let Daisuke make breakfast?

Daisuke dumps what seems like an ungodly amount of coffee beans into a grinder and turns it on. "That'll get everyone up," he says when the loud whir of the motor finally dies down, an evil edge to his grin. "I mean. I'm cool with it. People being here, I mean. But this was actually Takeru's party, not mine."

Right. Miyako's friend Hikari's other roommate. Ken's hung out with all of them before, just a couple of times, once at an outdoor festival on the lawn behind the student center, once at a movie showing downtown. Ken realizes now, with a touch of humiliation, that both times his eyes had been magnetically drawn to Daisuke's shoulders, to his jaw, to his mouth. "Do...you host a lot of parties?"

Daisuke shrugs, putting spoonful after spoonful of grounds into what looks like an industrial sized coffee maker. "I guess. Not usually ones this big." He fills the reservoir with water, and throws a glance over his shoulder at Ken, his eyes smiling. "We do have people over a lot but like, it's usually more close friends. Like. Art department people."

Ken looks up from the instructions on the back of one of the tubes. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten. Are all three of you majoring in art?"

"All three of us are undecided wastes of space, if you wanna get technical, but..."

"Speak for yourself," Hikari says from the doorway, and laughs. She leaves the door ajar and shuffles in, slippers scuffing over the worn linoleum. "Hey, Ken."

"Good morning, Hikari."

"You're in the CS department with Miyako, right?" Hikari asks, leaning against the fridge, her legs bare under the hem of her oversized t-shirt.

Ken nods, and looks at his hands. "Yes. I'm not really...that sure about my major, anymore, though." Nobody cares about that. Why are you telling them that?

Daisuke leans into Ken's personal space, grinning, and Ken hesitantly meets his eyes. "Switch to undecided like us! Try everything until something sticks." Hikari laughs. "I'm serious! I never thought in a million years I'd love sculpture..."

"Yeah, yeah." Hikari waves a hand. "Trust me, don't get him started on sculpture. Just don't even."

"Hey, fuck you!" Both of them laugh.

The sound of their conversation soon brings more people in from the rest of the house. Ken sticks close to Daisuke's side despite his own nervousness, despite the caffeinated jitter in his hands. Daisuke talks to everyone, grinning, laughing, eyes shining. Hikari excuses herself to "go see if Takeru's still shacked up with that pottery major", and Daisuke leans in and covers Ken's hand with his own under the table.

"Do you wanna go somewhere else?" he asks, his breath warm against Ken's ear.

Ken nods.

Daisuke's bedroom is blissfully quiet compared to the kitchen. Daisuke shoves aside the blanket covering the window, and daylight floods the room. "Sorry, man."

"Ah." Ken sinks down onto the futon, hands on his knees, his heart thumping. What...is he supposed to do now? "What do you mean?"

"I just kinda wanted to hang out, you know? Talk and stuff. With you. I didn't mean to get caught up in all that shit." He drops down onto the futon and pulls his feet up underneath him.

Ken doesn't even quite know what to do with this information. "It's OK."

"Nah, man. I can tell you're not good with crowds. We should've like, left earlier."

A tangled mess of feelings swells in Ken's chest, part self-consciousness, part embarrassment, part affirmation. "No, no, no. It's OK." Daisuke smiles at him, and silence stretches out from one beat to two. "I mean...thank you. Crowds aren't that bad, I just..." Ken laughs and covers his face with one hand. "No. You're right. I hate crowds."

"Hey, if you just wanna go home, that's cool too." Ken peers between his fingers at Daisuke's expression, which is full of so much honest concern that Ken can hardly stand it.

"No." The word comes out so forcefully that Daisuke is surprised into a loud laugh that he tries to stifle with one hand. Ken can't help it. He laughs too, and the tension is gone, sucked right out of the air between them.

"So. Anything you wanna do? I'm good with whatever. We can keep talking, last night I really liked just talking to you, you know? But if you want to do something else there's. I dunno. Movies? And we have a pretty sweet gaming setup in the basement. Well. The gaming setup is sweet. The basement isn't, it's more like, ugh. Gross. There are kitten-sized crickets. I swear."

Ken laughs, eyes on his lap. "I liked talking to you last night, too."

"Oh, good. Cool." Ken risks a glance up at him, and Daisuke's smile is so actually, genuinely delighted that Ken feels lost.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Ken feels the need to confess, again. "Nobody's ever, ah. Liked me before." Ken inwardly cringes. Saying it out loud seems so outrageously presumptive.

"There is no _way_ that is true, you..." Daisuke gestures at all of him, incredulous. "No way, man. I'm like a hundred percent sure they have. They just never told you because they're not blunt as fuck like me."

Ken lets out a surprised laugh. "Oh, no, I don't know...I mean. There are reasons why they...wouldn't have." Why would you say that? Don't...don't say that. Don't talk about that.

"Whatever. I guess," Daisuke scoffs with an exaggerated eyeroll. "But yeah, I mean...I'm not like. Formal. As a person. Obviously. So seriously, no pressure. We don't have to do anything or be anything we don't feel like, you know? Let's just see what happens."

Ken nods, a subtle, quiet relief sinking through him, pulling the tension from his shoulders. "OK. Yeah. I like that."

They grin at each other until Daisuke gets a faraway look in his eyes, and frowns. "I guess I should probably tell you about, uh. Just so you don't get the wrong idea. About me and Hikari and Takeru? Things are sort of complicated..." He takes a huge breath and exhales, looking at the ceiling. "None of us are exactly involved? Romantically? Anymore. We all sort of were, at different times, in high school. And sometimes we still, uh...yeah. When we're not with anyone else. I just don't want you to get the wrong idea."

Ken doesn't know what to say. "Oh. O...K."

"Man." Daisuke flops over onto the bed, his arm over his eyes. "There's like, no good time or place to bring that up. And. That was probably _way_ too soon? But like, sometimes people get really fucking weird about it if I _don't_ tell them upfront, you know?" He lifts his arm from his eyes and peers up at Ken. "Sorry. I'm still working this shit out."

Daisuke's life is so insanely different than his, Ken thinks with a touch of hilarity, and the worried crease between Daisuke's eyebrows causes a deeper sense of relief to sprout deep within him. Daisuke's actually worried? About what he thinks? That's...

He laughs.

"What?" Daisuke yells in mock-outrage, grinning that huge, teasing, infectious grin up at Ken, and. Wow. Daisuke shoves himself upright, leaning into Ken's personal space, eyes bright. "Can I just...hug you? I just really want to hug the shit out of you."

"Yes," Ken answers, and doesn't even get to internally cringe at how breathy his voice sounds before Daisuke is pulling him close, arms around his shoulders. Ken hugs him back, palms against the ribbed cotton of his tank top, against the planes of his shoulder blades, against the bumps of his spine. This is so...

"Oh, man," Daisuke sighs happily into the side of his neck. "This is so crazy."

"Yeah." Ken laughs and holds him tighter.

"No really." Daisuke pulls away, just a little, wrists still crossed behind Ken's neck, his eyes hooded and warm. "Trust me. This is some one-in-a-million chemistry. Chemistry! That was what I was trying to say before."

"Really?"

" _Hell_ yeah. I sort of..." He lets out an uncharacteristically nervous little laugh. "The first time we met. I was fucking _smitten_ , man."

"Wait, what?"

"You really obviously didn't want to be there, though. And the second time I could tell you just wanted to watch a movie and go home." He shrugs. "So that was that."

Ken is stunned. "I guess I...did."

"It's Miyako, isn't it? Dragging you to stuff? She's...Uh. I mean. She's great. But she doesn't exactly have an off switch, you know? When she gets excited about shit it gets kind of hard for her to tell when other people. Well. Aren't."

"Oh..." Ken smooths his hands over the lines of Daisuke's back. "She doesn't 'drag' me to anything. I want to go. I just...don't know what to do once I get there. I get so..." He trails off, biting down on his lip. There's no way Daisuke wants to hear this.

"So what?" Daisuke is pulling back, his fingers smoothing over Ken's forearms, over his wrists, threading between Ken's own. His expression is so expectant and so genuine that Ken almost believes it, but thoughts start to bleed up from the bottom of his mind, acrid and dark. This is _you_ we're talking about. Even if he's interested now, he won't be once he finds out.

"I don't...know. Tired. And..." he hesitates a moment, but Daisuke is still looking so _interested_ that it's getting harder to convince himself that he's not. "I don't know what I expect to happen, but whatever I'm hoping for...doesn't."

Daisuke seems to consider this. "Are you lonely?" He asks, his eyes gentle, his fingers still laced together with Ken's.

"I don't think so," Ken answers quickly, before he even has time to consider the question. It's not one that ever occurred to him to ask. Things are the way they are. What's the point in dwelling on things you can't change? His mind flips through his middle school years, his high school years, and each snapshot is of him, alone, at his desk, studying, studying, _studying_..."I...I don't. Know. I don't really know how to...tell."

"Hmm, I..." Daisuke thinks about it for a moment. "I don't know if I can even explain it, uh...hmm."

You don't deserve to have people around. There's no point in pretending like you can ever have friends. That's just the way things are. You don't even actually count as a human being. Stop fooling yourself.

But Daisuke's here, holding his hands. Nobody's ever held his hands, not since he was a little kid. That's...

Ken frowns, staring down at their clasped hands. "Maybe I am."

"Man, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've asked something like that, talk about crossing a line..."

"It's OK."

"No, man, that was way too personal of a question."

"No, really." Ken smiles, self deprecatingly, and Daisuke's mouth gives a skeptical twist. "I just hadn't thought about it that way before."

"Oh." Daisuke looks worried. "Sorry. Do...you wanna talk about it?"

For the millionth time since last night, Ken feels both lost and found all at once.

Don't.

Tell him.

"No, I...Yes. I guess so. I just never had very many friends. I, ah. I missed a year of school when I was twelve years old, and it took a lot of work to catch up. I guess, ah. I never really stopped. Studying."

Daisuke is nodding. "So you like it? School, I mean?"

Ken thinks about it, giddy with relief that he'd said that much, and that Daisuke hadn't asked him more about it. "It's not really that I like it. It's just...something I do."

"Oh." Daisuke is looking worried again, and that giddy feeling is taking a nosedive into anxiety.

"It's OK, though. I, ah. It's OK."

He can tell Daisuke doesn't believe him, but he doesn't press further. Ken almost...wishes he would.

No.

No.

"What about you? Do you like school?"

Daisuke laughs. "I hate it."

"You..."

"I mean. I don't hate it so much anymore. It depends on the class, I guess. Anything where I have to just sit around in a room and listen is the literal worst."

"But you like things like...sculpture?"

"Didn't Hikari warn you not to ask about that?" Daisuke flashes him a teasing grin that makes Ken feel warm. "But yeah. Definitely. I just need to be like, doing stuff. What's the point, otherwise?"

"Uh? Knowledge? Learning?"

"But there's just so much useless shit. Why do I need to memorize, like, a bunch of kings from a thousand years ago?"

Ken stares at him for a moment. "Because it's all part of why things are the way they are now?"

"I guess." Daisuke gives an exaggerated eye roll, then smiles and squeezes his hands. "But shit like that...I mean, yeah, you got kings taking over countries and shit, but how much did it actually change like, what people did? In their personal lives? You know?"

"Hey, Daisuke, are you in there?" Hikari calls from the hallway. "Is Ken with you?" The two of them stare at each other with wide eyes.

"Why?" Daisuke yells back, and throws Ken a secretive look, grinning, his lower lip trapped between his teeth.

"Miyako's trying to figure out where he went!"

Daisuke lets out a large, theatrical sigh.

"I'm here," Ken calls, guilt sinking like a stone through his insides. He'd completely forgotten he'd come here with Miyako. How could he _forget_ something like that? "Is...she ready to leave?"

There's some muffled conversation down the hallway. Daisuke is frowning, disappointment written over his features in broad strokes. "You probably have to go, right? I wish I had a car. I could drive you home later. I mean. Takeru has one, and I know I would be able to get him to let me use it except tonight I know he's gonna drive way out to the middle of nowhere for some show..." Daisuke's eyes light up. "You could always ride on the handlebars of my bike!"

Ken shakes his head, laughing. "What? No! There's no way that would..."

"Hey, Ken! Let me just eat really quick and then we can go! I know you had work to do today, I am so, so, sorry, is everything OK?"

They stare at each other, trying desperately to keep straight faces. "Everything's fine, Miyako, don't worry."

"OK! Let me just...I'll just be a minute!"

"Don't, like, hurry or anything," Daisuke yells.

"She's going to think you're being sarcastic," Ken whispers.

Daisuke takes a huge breath. "That wasn't sarcastic! ...Nope, she's gone." Ken laughs into his hands. "Hey, give me your phone." Ken fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over. Daisuke types for a bit, then hands it back, and a muffled chime sounds in his own pocket. He pulls out his own phone with a wide grin and types out a message that makes Ken's phone vibrate in his hand. "I texted myself, so...maybe you could text me again later?"

"Yeah. I'd like that. I will."

They look at each other. There's a shyness now in Daisuke's smile that's making something flutter agreeably in Ken's chest. Daisuke traps his lower lip between his teeth, eyes flicking for just a split second down to Ken's own mouth in a motion that Ken can't keep from replaying over and over in his head in the passenger seat of Miyako's messy sedan, the reds and golds of the autumn leaves rushing past the window in a vivid blur.


End file.
